Ghosts of Christmas Past
by TaraJo
Summary: For most people Christmas is a time for family and joy. Harry Potter isn't one of them.


A/N: Written for H/D Owl Post Exchange Fest on LiveJournal. Story based on song lyrics prompts, Red Water by Type O Negative and Save Yourself by Stabbing Westward. Betaed by lovely gusx217.

* * *

**GHOSTS OF CHRISTMAS PAST**

Christmas was the worst time of the year for Harry. What should usually be a time of joy with family, affected him quite the opposite, making him sink deep into depression. Ever since the war ended five years ago, Harry had spent the night before Christmas alone, accompanied only by his own demons and ghosts of his past.

The old clock in the hall chimed midnight and Harry sighed. He sat in the drawing room in almost complete darkness. One candle giving a soft glowing light to the long, suffocating shadows creeping closer to the lone figure sitting in an armchair with a tumbler of firewhisky in his hand.

Harry felt the old despair reaching him, the feeling of loss attacking him with a physical pain. He mourned all those loved ones long since gone, and also the ones he had lost not so long ago. Last Christmas Eve eleven people had gathered at Burrow for dinner, tonight there had only been seven.

All throughout his life, he'd always had someone to mourn, someone to miss. He thought he should have gotten used to the feeling by now, but that wasn't something he could ever get used to. The loss always cut him deep, the freshness of it biting his heart with sharp claws, making him gasp with sorrow. Then, over the years, the pain dulled, but it never went away, not completely, leaving a hollow spot in his heart, always yearning for someone who wasn't in his life anymore.

He heard a faint whisper in the darkness; he had to strain to hear if it was the old house moaning around him, or if it was someone from his past, coming to visit him as a ghost, as it sometimes happened during times like this. His eyes roamed around the room, noticing the lights of the Christmas tree looking black in the darkness, and the holly hanging on the wall looking dead already. He could almost smell the dead, rotten leaves in the room.

Suddenly a gentle wisp of air brushed his cheek, and he could feel a soft touch caressing his hair. He glanced up and held his breath in awe. His mother was standing next to him, a small smile caressing her lips, and love shining in her eyes.

"Harry, my lovely Harry. Why are you so sad again? It's Christmas, my son, a time for happiness," she whispered, caressing his hair with her translucent hand.

"Mum," Harry choked, "I miss you so much. I have lost so many loved ones in my life, and the pain is wearing me out."

"Dear son, we are gone, but we are not forgotten, and that's what matters. You keep us all in your heart anywhere you go, and the memory of being so loved keeps us alive in your heart. But you have to go on, move on with your life. You have so much to live for, don't let your life go to waste in your grief."

"But, mum..."

"She's right, son. Your mother is a smart woman, she's always been," said another voice next to Harry's mother, and Harry saw the ghosts of his father and his godfather standing beside his chair. James grinned at Harry.

"What's all this brooding about? Don't do this to yourself, son. Christmas should be the time for having fun, isn't that right, Sirius?" James elbowed his friend good-naturedly, and Sirius chuckled.

"You're damn right, James. Our Harry needs some cheering up right now. Sitting here all alone – he's the Savior, for Godric's sake. He shouldn't be here sitting alone, he should be out there, having fun, partying, celebrating! He saved everyone's arses from that naughty old Voldie, after all," Sirius exclaimed, patting Harry's shoulder.

Harry let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not a Savior. I can't save anyone – hell, I can't even save myself. I'd do everybody a favour by staying alone. I couldn't save you, Sirius, or Fred or Dumbledore. Even Tonks and Remus died because of me, and so many others are lost and gone, too. Why didn't Voldemort just kill me and spare the others?"

Lily sat on the armrest of the chair and gathered her son into her arms. In that moment Harry felt so comforted and loved, even if her touch was light as feather and her appearance was less than solid.

"Harry, listen to me, if you'd let Voldemort kill you, then he'd have won. You have to stop dwelling on thoughts like that. You can't blame yourself for every death; they all knew what they were risking and yet they wanted to do it. You give people hope, Harry, and that's more important than trying to save everyone. Now you have to let go of the past and keep the happy memories of us all in your heart. Five Christmases I've been watching you do this to yourself, but enough is enough. Start living your life, embrace the happiness that's waiting for you on the other side of the door. I want to see you happy, not regretting anything from the past. Seeing you happy also makes me happy, Harry. Would you do that for me?" Lily's voice was soft but firm. Harry leaned into the warmth that was emanating from her and closed his eyes. Without a word he nodded, and he felt soft lips brushing his forehead.

"I'm proud of you, my son," Lily whispered. "I love you so much, Harry, always remember that."

Harry felt tears running down his cheeks. "I love you too, mum, so very much."

He felt one more brush of the lips, one more reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone. His loved ones had left him, but for the first time in five years, Harry felt hope in his heart. Everything would be all right.

He stayed sitting in the armchair, his eyes closed, and he thought of everything his mother had told him. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, he had felt guilty for too long to let it go just by snapping his fingers, but he had to try. If not for himself, then for his loved ones, past and present. For the loved ones long since gone and their memory, keeping his heart alive to cherish them as long as he lived. Also for his still remaining loved ones, those with whom he shared his present and hopefully also a future together.

Slowly, he wiped away his tears, sitting still, listening to his heart. It was beating strongly and peacefully, just like the life of this ancient house around him. When a picture of the most beloved face appeared in his mind, he felt a warmth spreading into his chest. This was his home, his life, and he had someone special to share it with him.

He heard a soft creaking sound when the door to the drawing room opened, and a soothing presence comforted him just like so many times before. His husband stepped inside the room and kneeled on the floor next to him, wrapping his arms around Harry.

"Harry, love, are you ready to finish your Christmas mourn for this year and move on to more enjoyable activities with me?" Draco whispered in his ear.

Harry nodded, stood up and pulled Draco into his arms, embracing him like a long lost love – after meeting his passed loved ones, fears and demons, though, that was exactly how it felt for Harry. Draco hugged him back just as fiercely, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I know having Christmas dinner with my family wasn't nearly as comfortable as our usual Christmas dinner at Burrow, but you know the Weasleys will be back from Romania in a few days. We will have a great New Years with them, right?"

Harry looked at his husband, who had for so many years put up with his annual Christmas brooding, even naming it Harry's Christmas Mourn, in private of course. Not anymore. He didn't want to see that haunted, worried expression in Draco's eyes ever again. He wrapped his arms around Draco once again, this time kissing him deeply.

"Have I told you how much I love you, Draco?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"You tell me every day, love," Draco said smile in his voice.

"Not nearly enough, then. I love you, my precious husband, always remember that."

Draco looked into his eyes as if searching something. Then he cupped Harry's face in his palms and kissed him.

"I love you, Harry. Always."

The End


End file.
